


Circling around, the thoughts they swim

by Winga



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, To be honest this was supposed to just be a pre-slashy oneshot, and a tentative relationship, now there's kissing, then something happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4055824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winga/pseuds/Winga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco runs from his thoughts even though they're all that stay. Potter seems to think talking is better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He runs with the wind, wishes his broom was there, but it's not. It's not there and it never will be, not again, because it would remind him – would remind him of the dreadful fire, the fire that ate all, spat out the skeleton of his friend – not really, really it ate his friend too, ate his soul, too.

He runs faster, tries to forget, tries to think about – think about anything else, honestly.

It's been a year and the fire still follows him, follows his dreams, follows him everywhere, and it hurts and it burns and his lungs feel like they're still filled with smoke.

He stops. He's at the lake and he wonders, for the umpteenth time, why he was allowed to return to Hogwarts even after all he did, everything that he did under that madman, did to save himself, his family but nevertheless did, and he knows that Potter – he wishes he could still spit the name out as he used to but alas, that is in vain – Potter must be a reason for why he was invited – no, told to come back, to finish his education.

Some stare at him openly when he sits at classes, sits in the Great Hall and can they be blamed when he almost killed some of them, he caused such harm to them, he almost destroyed everything – and he wishes, like he had before, like he would still – he wishes that he could have died, could have been left to rot. He almost, almost chose Azkaban over return but his mother, his dear, darling mother told him that he would do no such thing and of course he would return to Hogwarts and that's why he is here, now.

It has nothing to do with Potter.

Nothing to do with those green eyes that told him everything about pity, about knowledge, when there was the wand, wand that needed to be returned. Nothing to do with Potter's words, Potter saying he knew what happened with Dumbledore, Potter _understanding_. Nothing.

Nothing to do with the way Potter sits with him at classes where he might otherwise be alone, even though a few of his friends returned, even though he still has Pansy and Blaise.

Nothing to do with the way his insides do somersaults nowadays when Potter joins him, when Potter talks to him, and it absolutely did not begin before term, begin with Potter beginning this weird friendship sort of thing with him.

(Draco has noticed that letting his mind go in circles like these he's most likely to forget about the fire, forget about the madman who lived under their roof, forget about how his father is rotting in Azkaban, forget about everything that has anything to do with the war, about all the things he has done and said and done in his life prior, even if he doesn't want to admit all that these thoughts drive into him, remind him of.)

He's still standing still near the lake and he wonders, wonders at life, wonders at himself.

How was it he who was saved when so many that should have been weren't? How is it he that Potter tries to make friends with, has even forgiven Pansy – forgiven the girl who was willing to give Potter to the madman – is Potter a madman now too?

There's noise to his right, or to his left, or in front of him and he's not really sure because how could he be sure when his mind is whirring, so fast and so fast, and he has to take a deep breath before he can lift his head up to see who it is that is nearing him.

Of course it's Potter.

Alone.

Potter is speaking but Draco holds a hand up, wait a moment, catches his breath and lets all thoughts flow out.

Potter smiles.

Draco blinks, blinks again, looks at Potter's mouth and he really, really has to start thinking again, about circles or was it in circles, because Potter's mouth, that mouth, seems so delicious and he wants to think about something else, not the fact that his stomach is somersaulting again.

And there must be something on his face because Potter's suddenly serious and if Potter's serious, Draco doesn't want this moment, even though he does, he admits to himself.

”Running doesn't help. You should talk to someone.”

Potter's words make weird sense to him. Even though they really don't.

”Of course it helps, in a way, as does thinking and letting your mind wander towards safer subjects like why am I even allowed to be alive,” Draco replies and he doesn't even question his own words.

”You were a child. I was a child. We were young and we were stupid and now – now is the time when we're actually allowed to be that, without a war behind our backs, without a war chasing us like we're the ones who started it.”

Potter has gone all philosophical in the months after the war, Draco has noted this before, when Potter started giving speeches and Draco started hearing them. Instead of thinking too much on what Potter's trying to say, between the lines, Draco answers to the first words.

”Who would listen to me?”

Potter shrugs. ”I would. Your friends would. Even if they're scared, still, and for good reason, that someone will come after them and even if they wish they could pretend it never happened – we're never going to be the same we were.”

”Right. They didn't feel it quite the way you did. They forget, but they don't, although I think Blaise's mind has found a way to shut it all out until – until someone shouts at us.” Draco stops, blinks, stares at Potter's eyebrows because they're safe to stare at – or are they? ”Why would you listen to me? Why did you give me back my wand? Why did you insist – insist I come back?”

Potter stays silent for a while and Draco almost starts running again before there's anything more said. Before he accidentally admits something he doesn't want to.

”I consider us.” Potter's beginning is a beginning that says nothing. ”I don't think we're friends, not as such, but I think something completely different from what we used to be, wouldn't you say? I started seeing you differently after – after Dumbledore and after the Fiendfyre and when I returned your wand I talked with your mother and she begged me – and this is not the reason I swear – she begged me to talk to you, and I owed her my life so I did, and I found out you were just a child. You were just scared. We were all so scared. And I thought – I thought it would be wrong if we started prejudicing those who had been on the wrong side for the wrong reasons, for not their own choices.”

Draco feels his heart sink even though there are the words 'not the reason I swear'.

”What's another reason, save my mother begging?”

Potter licks his lips and Draco's attention is pulled back to them from his eyebrows – so much for a safer point for staring at. ”I had decided earlier – I knew it would be difficult in a world so new and so fragile – I had decided that we should try to get along because how else would I show an example of forgiving those – those who had done wrong but for reasons they thought right? You wanted to save your family and who can blame you? You wanted to save yourself and really, didn't we all just want to survive? So I thought, I thought your mother was completely right at having me talk with you. And you were interesting, you kept the topic light but I could see through--”

”It hurt.”

There's nothing that could prompt his reply and Potter stops and stares.

”When you came to talk to me I had to keep it light because all I could think about was the fire and the death and the soul eating. Because all I could think was that the rooms couldn't be good for you, even though we'd pulled the place inside out, had help from the Aurors, we'd tried to change everything.”

Draco's mind is whirring and turning and twisting and he's everywhere at once, he's in the Room of Requirement, he's not identifying Potter, he's – he's seeing Burbage being eaten. He shudders.

”That's what I want to hear. You talk. Tell me.”

And Draco decides he wants to. Somewhere else. At another time. Now he wants to – he _wants_. And he sees the moment Potter sees it and Potter's eyes go all wide.

”Maybe,” Potter says and takes a deep breath, a step back. ”No, not maybe but sure, of course.” Draco wonders what the question is. ”If we talk – you talk to me, stop running, I mean run if you want to but stop – stop thinking it's the only solution because in the long run -” Potter sighs at his choice of words but repeats it to continue, to catch his thought, ”in the long run you're going to regret not talking, your mind is going to keep on turning on itself.”

”What do you know about that?”

Potter tries a smile, and it's nothing like the smile before. Tries a smile that doesn't fit his face. ”I dreamt of you dying, dreamt it again and again until I talked with Hermione, told her – told her that I couldn't have lived with myself, that I still feel like we failed, you know, and she told me it's normal, survivor's guilt or something she called it. She told me that talking would help, would make me realise that it was alright, I was alright to have survived. That I can't save everyone.” Potter chuckles and Draco rolls his eyes.

”Alright. Alright. Can we talk some other time?”

”Of course. Just. Yeah, just talk. Tell me when you want to talk.”

Draco nods, and he feels like turning around, like continuing his run, because there's nothing to it and Potter will need time to adjust, to realise what has happened.

”And you know,” Potter says, not letting Draco enough time to leave. ”You know I insisted you come back because it would be _boring_ without you and you can't have the Saviour being all bored out of his mind, now can you, and you've – you're not boring at all, are you? No, you want to make it all interesting.”

Draco turns and stares and closes his eyes. ”I always want to make sure the Saviour is well entertained,” he says, he says and he means it, really he does. He opens his eyes and Potter is grinning.

”Just – you know – I won't take you up on all the things on your mind – don't think I haven't caught you staring nor that Hermione hasn't told me – hasn't told me what she thinks you have in mind. I won't take you up on it until I'm sure that your mind is healing and you're talking,” Potter is saying and it takes Draco a while, or maybe it will take him longer, even after Potter's gone, to really knit together what's being said.

Draco frowns, says, begins: ”We should have a picnic tomorrow so I can start – so you'll listen to me, not be distracted by the fact that you might be hungry.”

Potter's still grinning and Draco feels somewhat faint. ”Yeah. That sounds – that sounds great.” He takes a step closer, another, enough so he can reach over and touch Draco's arm before pulling back and turning around. ”If you're going to continue running – think about the circles about me. Stop – stop going back into the fire because I can't save you from your head if you don't tell me what is going on.”

And Draco thinks, he thinks it might turn out right, for a while at least when he watches Potter walk away, whistling something that Draco doesn't think he's ever heard. He starts running again, and now he's more honest with himself, and he wonders if maybe – if maybe he could get Pansy and Blaise talk with him too. If they might be able to heal themselves at some point.

If they'll get their heads out of the gutter they're likely to go swimming when he tells them he's going to have a picnic with Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this was supposed to be a oneshot but there might be more, even, afterwards?

Picnics are a regular thing with them. Potter usually appears a few minutes late to the time they agree on and Draco is there, waiting. Has a basket full of things to eat, sandwiches, chocolates. Potter grins, he always grins when he sees Draco and Draco feels his heart flutter, more each time. It's like he's not going to get rid of that, well, ever.

Pansy had made lewd comments when Draco had told her about the first picnic and Blaise hadn't really helped. But they had promised, they really had, that maybe they should talk about the past, because it had happened and they could not make it not happen. Draco had been, pleasantly, surprised. But the teasing, the teasing about what it was that Draco and Potter would be doing during those picnics (such sweet, innocent, picnics if you didn't think of how heavy their subjects were), the teasing had continued because it was nice.

It was nice to have something light to talk about and for them the teasing was light and happy and for Draco – for Draco it was something he yearned for.

Anyway, the picnic.

It's the fourth picnic now and the school's about to end, and of course they've kept talking and meeting outside these picnics. Draco wonders, for a bit, about the possibility that Potter doesn't appear. He always does, wonder that is, wonder why Potter keeps appearing, no matter what he might have already told him, said about wanting to listen to him.

He's early, as it is, so he knows he'll have to wait for Potter for longer than he usually does, but that's fine, really, because it gives him time to calm down, he tells himself, when really he just gets more worked up, but that's alright, really, because when he's tense he tends to talk more, to talk more openly and Potter likes that, he thinks.

He's just closed his eyes to let the sun wash over him, to let the sun warm him, when someone sits next to him. ”You're early,” he says, opens his eyes and frowns. ”You're not Potter.”

”No, I rather think I'm not. Look, I'm just going to tell you that I know you're friends with Harry, I know that, and I think it's great that he keeps making friends and it's great, it's great that he looks over the Houses but. But I don't know. You used to be such a brat.”

”Yes well. I think I was quite a spoiled brat, wasn't I? Thought I had all these privileges because of my parents and because of my being a Pureblood and all, didn't I? But really, you know, living with the madman, you know. It really made me think it all through, it did.”

Granger nods, looks around her and Draco does too. There's still no sight of Potter, so he's stuck with her but it could be worse. Could be Weasley threatening him.

”I know, yeah. Look. I also know that you want more from Harry, and I kind of think, I do really, that it's what he wants, too. And I just. I just want to make peace with you, alright? And to tell you that I'm trying to handle Ron but he might, I don't know, he might still appear and punch you and just, I want to warn you.” She bites her lip and he thinks, for a moment, that she's not that bad, she can't be that bad if Potter likes hanging around with her, and she's smart, isn't she?

”I have been, in a way, waiting for a punch since the first day of school and especially since, well, especially since Potter started hanging around me. You know, it's surprising, really it is, that school is near the end and we've taken our NEWTs and he hasn't. Punched me, that Weasley. Or his sister.”

Granger laughs and Draco smiles because he thinks that they'll have to spend time together if Potter – what if Potter doesn't want him anywhere near him after the school ends and they have to look for something else to do with their lives? He worries his lip and he thinks something must have leaked out of his mind because Granger, Granger's looking at him with a thoughtful look on her face.

”You know, I think. I'm quite sure that he's going to – no. I can't. Anyway, I think he'll want to see you more after school, too. Even though it's not going to be – or maybe. I don't know, maybe not so often because you'll both have different lives.”

They hear steps coming closer and they look up to see Potter walking closer. And Granger gets up, Draco follows suit and when Granger extends her hand, Draco shakes it. Granger smiles.

”You can't be that bad,” she says and Draco nods.

”Neither can you,” he replies and they let go. She says hello and bye to Potter and she leaves them, leaves them alone and Draco watches her go, tries to not think about what came to him but he can't not.

Potter says something but Draco doesn't hear him, probably a greeting, he sits down and frowns when Draco doesn't. He gets back up and touches Draco's arm. Draco jumps.

”You're – what's wrong?”

Draco shrugs, but he sits down and Potter does, too. They sit in silence for a while before Draco opens the basket, asks if Potter wants a sandwich. He takes two out, offers one to Potter before he falls back into silence for some moments more. Potter lets him, takes a bite out of his bread.

”It's going to end soon,” Draco says first and Potter nods but then he frowns, like he knows. ”It's going to end soon, school is, and then we'll have to leave here.”

”Yes well. We both knew that would happen one day. Back in the first day we knew that, although then it didn't seem like it was really ever going to happen.” Potter has finished his sandwich and he's cleaning his hands on his jeans. ”You know it doesn't mean that – you know we're going to still see each other, right? Because you are my friend.”

Draco looks at Potter and wonders, is he? ”That's the thing, though. Isn't it? This friendship, you know. I told you, or you read me or what have we not.”

”I'd like to think of these as practice dates,” Potter simply answers and it's. Well, it's rather more than Draco had expected. It's just enough, though.

He's smiling, now, even though he's not completely at ease, not yet. Because he will need something to happen outside of school before he's really going to believe it, he thinks.

”And I think it's good, it's rather good that we're talking. You're talking, not just running, although I know, I've seen you running, still. Daily, I think. Must be good for your figure.”

Draco laughs. ”Yes well. You've seen me. Makes me more, hm, makes you want me more, doesn't it?” he asks and blinks and frowns. ”I didn't really mean to say that.”

”But it's true. I mean. Maybe. I wouldn't know because I can't know if it would be less if you didn't keep on running. Probably not. But. You know.”

Draco nods. Potter closes his eyes and Draco watches him, watches his face, because his face is still interesting to watch. Idly, he wonders what Pansy would have to say about that.

The silence is rather nice, it lets Draco think. He thinks that he's going to rather miss these picnics. But, perhaps they can continue in some way or another. After school. There's hopefully going to be a holiday before, before they have to actually begin learning a career. He hasn't really thought about what he's going to do with himself, with his life. A year ago he thought, well he quite thought his life would be over by now. And then he just, he just shut down and thought he knew that no one, really, would want him anywhere near them.

He's needed this, needed someone to talk about the past, to make him see reason, to make him think about the future too. He's glad there's still some money left, enough money left, even though he and his mother, they gave a lot of money to charity. His father – his father is something they don't really talk about with Potter, nor with anyone. It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter, should it, that he's the child of a Death Eater, he was a Death Eater, but got pardoned, his father being sent to Azkaban.

Potter is staring at him. ”Talk to me,” he says and Draco opens his mouth, remembers Potter saying that he, that he should talk and he shouldn't just think.

”We don't really talk about him, do we? Not the madman,” he adds at Potter's questioning look, ”no, but my father. He's in Azkaban, you know, well of course you do. And his old, well, acquaintances, probably want nothing to do with me and a lot of people, a lot of people are going to resent me for him, me for me, aren't they?”

Potter nods, not so much in understanding, probably, more in the way that he's listening and that Draco should go on. So. So Draco does.

”And I don't really know – I haven't really thought about what I'm going to do. I think I'd like to work with, well, work with potions because I know them. And I probably would just – I would have locked myself in if you hadn't started talking to me, especially now. And now I'm trying to think, trying to figure out what it is that I want, what it is that I can do.” Draco takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, closes it. He's not sure what he wants to add, what he needs to add. He sighs, pours himself some water and drinks it. Potter doesn't urge him on. He's, well, rather grateful.

After a few moments, Potter speaks. ”I've this – I used to think that all I'd want to do would, well, I'd want to be an Auror. I'd be an Auror. And I'm going to be, you know, because it's something I know, well, I'm good at, aren't I? Having vanquished Voldemort and all. But I'm not, I'm not sure anymore if that's all I want to do with my life. But we're young. Haven't I told you that before? We're young and even if we become something in the next few years and work for a while – we're still going to be quite young, aren't we? So who cares if it's not the right choice, the first choice we make? It's not like it's going to, it's not going to destroy our lives, now. It's not like it's been, before. We're allowed to make wrong choices, too. To make the most obvious choices for a change.”

Draco nods, when Potter closes his mouth and says nothing more. He's, well, he knows Potter's right. He made the wrong choices, some wrong choices already. And he's still here, he got a second chance. And Potter's right. They're young, they're going to be young for years. So maybe it doesn't matter that he hasn't got a solid plan for the future, maybe it doesn't matter he doesn't know what's going to happen tomorrow. What's going to happen in the next hour.

He says: ”Alright.” He grins. ”You're not going to make a speech at our graduation, are you? Because you could. You'd make a great speech, you know. You would.”

Potter laughs, and Draco loves the sound, he knows he does. ”No, I'm not.” Potter smiles at him. ”What else do you have in that basket of yours?”

Draco pours some juice for Potter, gives him a muffin. ”I knew you'd need food.”

Potter takes the muffin, takes a bite of it and when he swallows – Draco stares at his throat – when he swallows, he looks thoughtful. ”Where did you get the food? I should have asked that the first time, I think. The kitchen? Or made it yourself?”

”The kitchen. Said it was for you. Don't really, well, don't really think they'd necessarily have given anything to just me,” Draco says, and it's nice not to think about heavy matters, even though he kind of wants to, although he wants to talk about things like when, if ever, when are they going to go on an actual date if this is just a practice one.

Potter nods solemnly. ”Although I do think, really, that they make good food for anyone who asks and appreciates what they make.”

They sit silently, Potter eating his muffin and Draco has to get himself one, too, because, well, because he wants one, and because he doesn't really want to keep staring at Potter eating. So he closes his eyes and eats his muffin. Eats it, enjoys it. Enjoys the company.

Potter speaks first. ”So. I'm not sure if I, well, if I have time for another picnic before we graduate.”

Draco opens his eyes and looks at Potter. Tries not to show his sinking heart.

”I mean, you have to pack, I have to pack, we have to say our goodbyes. I have to plan our first real date.”

Draco swallows what's left of the muffin in his mouth and says, well tries to speak. First the words won't leave his mouth and then they do. ”After our graduation?”

”I was quite thinking the next day. Unless we're both going to be very hungover, in which case it probably, and I think it maybe should, should be moved to the next day from that. I mean, I'll tell you when I get the plan together, it's not like, well we're still going to see each other daily, because we still have classes, even though heaven knows what we're to do with them. Maybe plan our future.”

Draco nods, but he's not really, well he's really paying attention but he can't hear that well over his beating heart because Potter's making it real, making it real after they graduate.

”Tell me, is there something that's absolutely prohibited on our first date? Or, maybe, there's something that must be included?”

Draco looks at Potter's mouth and says, because it's the first thing on his mind: ”If you don't kiss me then, at least, I'm going to be very disappointed.”

And Potter laughs, moves his hand to Draco's knee and they're really, it's really going to continue. ”Of course. Of course I will, didn't I, didn't I make it clear before? No, I guess I didn't. Of course I will. Might at the end of this, unless you think our practice date should stick to the strict no kissing policy we've been following, I've at least. I mean, I think it's obvious I have been wanting to kiss you anyway.”

Draco smiles, wishes the moment's never going to end even though no, he really doesn't, because if Potter is to be believed, the future moments, there are going to be moments even better than this. ”I. I don't actually know. Maybe we should wait until a proper date. Because I don't know, well, really, I don't know if I can stop when I begin. And I think, maybe, that this is too public, too public for how much I want to devour you. Want to kiss you. Snog you.”

Potter closes his eyes, his mouth opening a little, and he nods. In understanding, total understanding.

They sit like that, for some time still. Potter's hand stays on Draco's knee and maybe, really, Draco's hand ends up covering Potter's.

And when they part, Draco wonders if he looks as happy as he feels. As content. And he probably does, because Pansy and Blaise, they don't tell him, they don't make fun of him, all in good humour, that. They just, they look at him and they smile, and they tell him they're happy for him, and it's almost too much for him.


	3. Chapter 3

He's late to everything, he knows that, but he didn't know, now did he, anything about what he'd be doing after school. Now he's trying to, trying to figure out what he wants and if he wants to take a year to think about it, and he kind of does but he doesn't, not really. But he doesn't want to, doesn't really want to stress about that now, because he's getting ready, he's finally getting ready for a proper date with Potter. Somewhere in his head there's a question of 'are you ever gonna call him by his given name?' and that opens another thought.

Pansy. That silly girl, woman now, he must admit, decided that since he was getting along splendidly with Potter, and since he was so happy, wasn't he just, then – well if there was going to be a possibility for happiness in Potter for him, they'd have to get along with his friends, wouldn't they? So Pansy had started talking to them, she really had, and she'd made a point to start calling them by their given names and Potter had been so surprised by it, but he'd told her that it was nice, wasn't it, to forgo all the things that were in the past.

They had apparently had a nice and long conversation, if Pansy was to be believed. Potter told him that it was nice, to get to know his friends too, because they told so much about him, too.

Draco shuddered to think what Pansy might have told Potter, what she might have given him more about Draco. And when Blaise, that blasted friend, some friend he was, started following Pansy's example, what a good example it had been, Potter had grinned at Draco and told him, well he'd said something that Blaise had a good sense of humour and his imagination flew on other spheres. Draco's teeth had grinded at that but, thankfully, Potter hadn't blamed him, nor had he said anything bad about Blaise, and that was, well, that was a lot. That was good.

Draco hadn't thought about the possibility that, after Granger having spoken to him, that Weasley might as well. Weasley did as well. Probably after having had a good talk with Granger and Pansy and Blaise and maybe together, too. And maybe Potter too. Because Draco had thought, that if it were to pass, if he and Weasley were left at it, left alone unmonitored, they'd just, they'd just end up tearing each other up. But they hadn't, no, it had actually been quite pleasant and Draco had been so surprised, that he'd not even been taken aback when Weasley had told him not to break Potter's heart. Because he and Potter had not discussed such matters yet, had they?

If it was down to Draco, they should. Soon. Tonight, that was what he was getting ready now, wasn't it? A proper date.

Draco sighs and pushes aside all thought of his friends, of Potter's friends, others that had come to talk to him, that had started to noticing Pansy and Blaise, he pushes the thoughts aside and concentrates on thinking about Potter.

But maybe that isn't such a good idea now, because his mind, well, his mind goes back in circles into the panic kind of way of thinking where he starts wondering if Potter is just taking the piss and won't even appear. Because really, isn't it he who is gaining so much, who has so much to lose? What on earth can Potter ever see in him, such a waste he is?

He takes a deep breath in, he breathes in and out and tries to concentrate on the promises, the promises Potter had made on their last picnic, well last to be shared on the grounds of Hogwarts but hopefully not the last, period. That Potter does want to kiss him, for whatever reason that might be, would be willing to break the thoughts of saint Potter, designated to marry a Weasley and produce children, screaming smiling Potter kids. That Potter really does think of him in similar manner as he thinks of Potter. And he smiles. He still smiles when there is a knock at the door and dear Merlin is he even ready for a proper date?

He runs to the door and opens it, by himself because he wants to see Potter as soon as possible.

Potter stands there, dressed smartly, and Draco smiles, reassured that this is a thing, that this is a thing that will continue, at least for a while. Potter flashes a smile, asks: ”Shall we go, then?”

Draco nods, puts his shoes on, not a cloak because they'd agreed on a Muggle venue. Potter had said he didn't want that many prying eyes on their first date and he'd agreed. He wanted to be able to concentrate on Potter.

They apparate to an alley Potter thinks will quite likely be empty and it is. It's still a short distance away from the restaurant, but Draco likes the company and walking's always good, even in silence. Potter seems a bit nervous and it makes Draco nervous, because haven't they already spent quite a bit time with each other, haven't they already gone past nervousness in their interactions? But even if Potter had called their picnics practice dates, they hadn't been dates, there hadn't been kissing, just some casual touches, and from this night, this date, Draco is expecting at least a good night's kiss.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Potter holds the door for Draco, and Draco smiles at him, lets him lead them, well lets the waitress lead them when Potter states his name. They sit down at the table, take the menus and start looking at them. Potter sets his down first, waits for Draco and when Draco looks at him, he smiles, says: ”You look great.”

The waitress appears soon, takes their orders, and in a moment, Draco's not even sure what he ordered. He tells Potter that he looks great, too, and they start chatting, nothing too big at first, just how their last few days went, because it was already a few days after their graduation – they had decided not to go straight after hangover day, but wait a few days because both had things to do.

When their salads arrive, Potter asks: ”Have you decided what to do with the next year?”

Draco shakes his head, looks down at his plate and sighs. ”I was kind of wondering if I could just travel for a bit because why not and try to get a new perspective because I'm not even sure what I want to do,” he says, honestly, because honesty is something they've promised each other. And the thought of travelling, even though it sounds good, it's also terrifying, because he might have to leave this behind, or just send owls with Potter, and this, whatever it is, a date now, is still in the beginning even though it's been coming for some time, and he doesn't know if it'll last if he leaves.

”It might be a good idea, I think, for you to take some time for yourself,” Potter says nodding, but there's an odd look on his face and Draco wonders if it was the wrong thing of him to say. Potter tastes his salad, and Draco follows the fork on its way to his mouth.

Draco shakes his head and looks past Potter, says: ”But I also.. I also want to know where this would lead. And I don't want to leave this behind so soon after I've found this.” He doesn't really want to tell Potter that, really, but honesty is honesty and honesty usually gets him forward with Potter, he's learnt.

Potter swallows and Draco has to look at him, again. There's a silence, for a while and Draco decides he probably should eat, too, and not just keep looking at Potter. Just when he gets something in his mouth, Potter speaks. ”I hope you'll make the choice for yourself. That you'll do whatever you think, well, whatever you think will make you happy, or at least the least miserable.” He smiles, continues: ”I mean, I'd rather we be apart and send owls than have you here if it doesn't make you happy. And maybe I could join you on your trip, for a while, at least.”

Draco blinks, chews, swallows. Potter's still smiling and maybe he did say what Draco thinks he did, because why would he hear things that didn't come out of Potter's mouth? ”I think, yes, I think I might like it if you, well, joined me,” he says, without thinking too much on it, without thinking too hard about it, because if he did, he might not say anything at all.

Potter flashes a grin and eats. They both do, eat, chew, ponder on the suggestion. At least Draco suspects Potter does too.

”I haven't really, you know, decided if I wanted to join the Aurors, or the program, straight away. I think they'd, well they should, probably understand a gap year, even if it, well, even if it meant I wouldn't know that many of those who'd begin at the same time.” Potter's finished his salad and he's pushing the plate away and he's staring at Draco. ”It could do good to have, to have some time for myself to, to think about it. Think about things. Live a little. You know, after dying and coming back and all. Spending a year more at school, well, it was almost a holiday, in a way, you know, because no one was trying to actively kill me, but it was still, still just that, studying.”

Draco thinks it's nice to have Potter speak. That Potter has a nice voice, he really does, and their picnics, even though they had lots of talking, they were still for Draco to open up and Potter to, to act like a mirror, in a way. And Potter didn't talk that much, not nearly enough, even if he did talk more on the other occasions they spent time together. But still, it's nice to have Potter voice out his thoughts because even if some of them can be read on Potter's face, well, Draco can't read everything from his face.

Potter worries his lip, like there's something he wants to say but isn't sure of how to dress it into words, and Draco raises a brow. ”What?”

”I don't know. It's weird. This. It's like, well, it's the same as it's been lately, the last year, but it's not, really, it's. It's more serious, this. I don't want to make a fool out of myself,” Potter admits. ”And talking future plans. Possibly making those plans, with you, now already. It's serious.”

Draco takes a moment to think about that, to realise Potter is right. ”Yes, I guess it is. But, well, but does it matter? If it's serious. I mean of course it does, it should matter, too. But is it bad?”

”No!” Potter sighs, is about to say something more but the waitress comes, brings their main courses and takes away their empty plates, makes sure they're enjoying their time, fills their glasses with wine. Draco curses her but lets her do her job. When she finally leaves, Potter smiles at him. ”I'm not really saying this well. I feel like, I feel like I want to make plans with you, you know.”

Draco's heart flutters, or something in his chest does, and he smiles too. ”Good. I mean, it would be terribly bad if you didn't, wouldn't it? We'd be a right mess from the beginning, we would, if we didn't even think about the future.”

”You didn't.”

Draco knows Potter didn't think, just said it, but he sighs. ”Yes well. You've made me see, you've made me see the errors of my ways. That I should think about the future. That there might be something in the future worth living for.” Because let's be honest, and we are, being honest, he knows he would be moping about the apartment he's gotten himself, because he can't stand living in the Manor, not right now, he would be moping and Pansy would be trying to help him. ”So. So thank you.” Even if this doesn't work out, he thinks, he still has to thank Potter. But this will, he thinks, this will work out.

Potter nods, nods and looks at him. There's a fond look on his face and Draco thinks he could get used to this. Dinners with Potter.

They start eating, and their topics turn into a lighter mode, something about the magazines they read, Quidditch. Easier topics, because too many heavy topics would dampen the mood, Draco thinks, and he's often right, he is, about these things. It's easy, still, to talk with Potter, and Draco's glad that it is so. When they finish their mains, the waitress appears, quite fast, and asks if they'd like dessert. Potter looks at Draco, questioningly, and Draco nods, orders tea and tiramisu, whereas Potter sticks to coffee and chocolate cake.

The mood is light, as they wait for their desserts, and when they come, Potter steals a bite from Draco's plate, and Draco steals a bit from Potter's, and they laugh a bit, laugh a bit more, and soon the evening's nearing the end, and Potter pays the bill, of which Draco is glad. The waitress smiles, wishes them a nice evening, and Draco thinks it is, very nice indeed. They walk back to the alleyway where they'd apparated to, again in silence, and apparate back. Potter walks him to his apartment, and at the door they stop.

”So.” The word manages to barely leave Potter's mouth when Draco's mouth is on his, and they kiss for a while, kiss until Draco pulls back and looks at Potter, smiling. Kissing's something he's always enjoyed and from the look on Potter's face Draco gathers he quite enjoyed it too.

”Want to come in for a drink?” Draco asks and Potter nods, follows as Draco opens the door and walks in, closes it after them. Potter sits on the couch and Draco pours them drinks, sits next to Potter and thinks, thinks this might be even better than the picnics.

Potter takes a sip of his drink before he sets the glass on the table, takes Draco's out of his hand and sets it down, too, and then his mouth is on Draco's, not insisting, just gently kissing, and Draco, thinking this is certainly better than the picnics, this is, Draco kisses back, brings his hand into Potter's hair.

Potter chuckles into the kiss, nips at Draco's lower lip, pulls back. Draco whines, because he should get everything he wants and right now, right now, he really wants Potter. But Potter just looks at him, offers his drink back, says: ”The first date usually means kisses, doesn't it, really? And I can, I can give you kisses. I really can, I quite enjoy kissing you, I think.”

Draco takes the drink, drinks it too fast, and watches, stares at Potter enjoying his drink – his drink! - when he could be enjoying kisses instead.

Soon, though, soon enough Potter's mouth finds his again, the glasses put carefully back on the table. At first Draco counts the kisses because why not, but soon it's too many, and when Potter pulls back, gasping, saying: ”I should go,” Draco nods, even though, even though he wishes Potter would stay the night.

But it's just their first date.

”I'll owl you tomorrow,” Potter says, stands up. He stares at Draco, really stares, and leans in to give him a quick kiss more, before he pulls away. ”I will, I promise, I'll owl you tomorrow. We'll have to talk about that possible journey together.”

And then he's gone and Draco's disappointed but not. Draco's happy. He wants to firecall Pansy but decides against it, rather goes to bed to sleep, to possibly dream about Potter.


	4. Chapter 4

There is an owl the next morning, from Potter of course, and it says, it states that Potter would very much like to see Draco again, and how does Friday sound to him? Draco almost replies that it sounds so far away because it's Sunday and there's almost a whole week before Friday. He'd got so used to spending time with Potter basically every day that this felt like an eternity, but he didn't want to, well, didn't want to admit that to either himself nor Potter.

So he sends a reply just stating that it seems he would be available then and starts wondering what he'll do next. He knows that if he is going to leave the country for an extended time, he'll have to let his mother know, so she won't plan anything for him and then he'll have to think about what to do with the apartment. Will he keep paying for it for a year or however long he'll be gone or will he ask his mother to put his belongings somewhere? He just doesn't know, yet.

He knows that his mother worries about him, especially since he hasn't really been planning the future and especially since he'd said he'd almost rather have gone to Azkaban. He also knows that he's grateful for her, for her having said something to Potter, for Potter to talking to him and for going back to school.

He sighs, and there's a hoot from the window. He's surprised, he hadn't thought Potter would send anything else, but he has.

_How about a lunch today?_

Potter hasn't even signed the note, but Draco doesn't mind, he just smiles (and when did he start smiling at even the thought of Potter he's unsure of but knows Pansy or Blaise would probably have an answer). He just smiles and sends a note, _Yes, where?_ , and waits.

It takes a while, but of course it does because of course Potter must be busy, what with planning his future with the Aurors and meeting his friends who're probably still going to say something about Draco being a bad influence towards him even if they had acted friendly enough at school. Draco just doesn't think he can get Potter so easily.

And it's not like Draco thinks he deserves Potter, Merlin knows Potter deserves the best and Draco is never going to say that he's that much, but he thinks that, he thinks that maybe they'll be good for each other. And they're still young and it's just a beginning and maybe, and perhaps their relationship won't last until their death, but that's not something to think about now. Now they are, they are at least something and maybe they'll be more and for now it's enough, it should be enough if it's what they both want. And Draco knows he wants, and he thinks, he's quite certain Potter wants too.

Draco is falling into the circling thoughts again but the arrival of the owl stops him and he smiles, he takes the note from the bird and offers it a treat and he reads the short note.

_You could come here. Or I could come there. Or we could go and eat out. Muggle or magical. I hadn't really thought this too far, had I? So actually I'll let you choose._

Draco smiles still, because Potter, well, Potter really is Potter, he's still unorganised, or Draco thinks he might have been in the past too. But at least Potter wants to see him and maybe they'll get to know each other better.

He thinks about his choices for their lunch venue and even though he kind of wants to go to the magical places, he doesn't think they'd be able to share any kisses because he doesn't really want to make their beginning such a public thing and alright, he can admit it, he doesn't really want a horde of Howlers in the next morning. So magical would mean talking and keeping it at that, although there would probably be interruptions from those adoring fans of Potter. So magical is out.

He enjoys his apartment but he doesn't think he has anything to offer, so that would mean getting food from somewhere. Or going shopping, but he'd rather have the lunch sooner than later.

He wants to see where Potter lives, but if it takes too long, he'd rather just meet the man at a Muggle place. So he writes: _If you cook and I can come in early, maybe your place._ The owl hasn't left, Draco is surprised to notice, but he assumes Potter told it to wait for a reply. So he gives his note to the owl and the bird hoots and takes flight.

Draco realises he doesn't even know where Potter lives. Or he's unsure. He's heard talk about a house that might have belonged to Blacks, and if that's right, well, then he might actually know where Potter lives.

When he gets the reply, he finds out he has no idea where Potter lives. There's an address, and it doesn't sound familiar, so it quite likely isn't the Black property. He checks where the address is located and frowns, wondering why Potter would be living in a Muggle area. It's not too far away from an apparition point, so Draco apparates, almost as soon as he knows where he's going, but actually he still changes his clothes, checks himself in the mirror twice, combs his hair. Then he's ready and then he apparates, walks from there. Less than an hour after the note he's at Potter's door and he knocks. Potter opens the door with a smile.

”Welcome, welcome. I hope you don't mind that it's, ah, a little messy, but I haven't really gotten everything in their proper places,” Potter says, lets Draco in. Draco steps forward and Potter closes the door, continues: ”I'm in the middle of cooking so, well, make yourself at home. Or come keep me company. Either way's fine. You're not allergic to eggs or anything?”

Potter is looking at him expectantly. Draco shakes his head, says: ”Not allergic, I'd think. Although you do know we're wizards, right? There are ways to make things possible to eat even with allergies.”

Potter nods and walks into the kitchen, which, Draco thinks, is weirdly situated straight next to the doorway. He takes off his shoes and coat and peaks into, well, into the living room, it appears. There are still boxes around and Draco wonders if Potter is going to empty them all by hand or if he has any idea where things are going to go. He smiles and moves into the kitchen, which isn't the biggest. He passes Potter and sits at the table situated next to a window.

Potter grins at him and breaks eggs into a bowl. ”How are you?” he asks and Draco rolls his eyes.

”Oh, I don't know. There's this guy, you see, and I think I'm growing quite fond of him. Anyway, we were on our first date last night and I almost thought I'd get him, well, get him spend the night with me, but then he told me he had to go. So he left me, wishing his lips were still on mine. And now I'm stuck with you. What about you?”

Potter has stopped what he was doing and is now staring at Draco, an odd look on his face. He shakes his head and it's gone and he's back to business, eggs broken. Draco has to wonder if Potter does it deliberately or if he just doesn't even know spells to ease cooking.

”Well, I was on an amazing date last night. It was nice, we talked and we laughed, and then he invited me over. So of course I went, because I thought why not, and because I've gotten quite fond of him too. But I was afraid that we'd make a mistake if we took it too fast, so after I had kissed him a few times and been kissed, I told him I should leave. And I did.”

Draco nods, mulling over Potter's words. There's a smile on his face and he knows he probably looks somewhat smitten but even though he doesn't really want to yet admit it, he doesn't care, not right now.

Potter chops things into the bowl and Draco's not even sure what all he's put in there but he doesn't dare to ask, just trusts that it won't be poisonous and that it will be edible. Potter bites his bottom lip as he mixes everything.

”So. I really am a bit worried about moving too fast but at the same time I think we've been on this path for at least the last year.”

Draco hums and wonders what he's supposed to say to that. He agrees. Or he doesn't. Well he does, because this is what he had learnt he'd wanted during the last year, and he agrees because it's happened so it must mean Potter had wanted it too. Yet he finds it unbelievable, or not. They had been friends, hadn't they, for the whole year, and gradually, now that he looks back and now that he knows what to look for, hadn't they spiralled towards each other more and more? He knows he'd spent more time with Potter the longer the year had gone.

So he smiles, he smiles and he looks at Potter. ”I don't mind a slow pace, just as long as it's not quite as slow as the last year. Just as long as there're kisses for us in the future.”

Potter grins, pours the contents of the bowl on the pan and walks over to Draco, leans in to kiss him. ”Yeah,” he says, as he pulls back a bit, ”yeah, I think that kisses can be arranged.”

Draco blinks and laughs as Potter pulls away, to make sure that the eggs won't burn. ”Good.”

Potter ends up serving scrambled eggs with whatever he put in there – Draco thinks it's delicious but doesn't think he needs to know what exactly he's eating – and they sit opposite from each other, keep staring at each other as they eat.

Potter finishes first and when Draco's done, he asks: ”Coffee? Tea?” Draco takes tea and Potter makes it for them.

They're mostly silent, but they have been talking so much with each other during the last year that there's no need for talking too much. When they've drank their teas, Draco gets up and sees that Potter's face falls, just that little bit. So Draco says, hopes it's the right thing: ”I thought we might move into the living room, now, you know? Continue with learning about kissing each other.” And the look Potter gives him is more than enough to assure him it was the right thing.

So Draco leads Potter, sits on the couch and wishes to pull the other into his lap but doesn't dare, not yet. There are too many boxes around them but that all fades into nothing in Draco's mind when Potter sits next to him and leans in for a kiss and kisses Draco like he's never kissed anyone before. And they exchange soft kisses, long kisses, more heated kisses, until Potter pulls away, breathing hard.

”Well,” he says with a large smile, ”I think I really like kissing you.”

Draco laughs. ”Yes. You should continue.”

But Potter shakes his head. ”I'm sorry. I should have said, remembered to say that I asked you to lunch only. I would like to ask you to stay longer, but I need to get going in an hour. Hermione says that it's important that I get, that I go to her apartment tonight for dinner, even though I think she and Ron are just going to announce either that they're moving in together or that they've finally gotten engaged.”

Draco nods with a sigh. ”Yeah. I understand. But now, now you still have about an hour to kiss me!”

Potter laughs and obliges.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco is afraid he's smiling far too much, as it is, as he keeps meeting up with Potter almost daily after the lunch. He's also making plans for his departure, because he has finally gotten to the decision that he does want to travel and so he will.

When he tells Pansy and Blaise over lunch one day when he has plans to meet Potter in the evening, it doesn't go quite as he'd planned. Pansy stares at him, surprised, asks: ”But what about Harry? You're not leaving him, are you? I mean, you're the happiest I can remember you being, I think ever.”

And Blaise isn't much more helpful: ”Shouldn't you and Harry talk it through, first?”

Draco has to roll his eyes, because really, aren't these two supposed to be his best friends and supportive of his plans? He takes a deep breath and then says: ”I told him first. That I might want to travel. And he was fully supportive of that plan, thank you very much. So much so that he even asked if I wanted him to join me, at least for some of my travels. Anyway, what I have with Potter really isn't your business.”

”You're spending a whole lot of time with the guy, probably snogging if not more, yet you insist calling him Potter. Really, Draco?” It's Blaise, of course, because Pansy is still hanging at the words of their travels together.

”He really must care for you to think that, well, that you'd survive travelling together. You hog the bathroom for long periods of time, you're still selfish even if you've gotten better at that. He's a brave Gryffindor, Harry is,” she says before registering the end and Blaise's comment. ”You should really get past that surname thing.”

Draco deigns to feel offended, and in his heart he might, just a little bit. ”He's always been Potter. I know, yes, that you've somehow gotten past that, but I'm sure he still talks about me as Malfoy.” He turns to look at Pansy, says: ”I'll have you know I'm great company for travels, thank you very much.”

”He doesn't, actually. Hasn't for a long time, is what I've gathered,” Blaise replies, with a roll of his eyes. ”And I have lived with you, in the same dorm, for years, so trust me, there's going to be some getting used to things with you. Heck, it would be so with anyone.”

Draco's surprised, he really is. But then again, they don't really use each others' names, do they? They are, they talk, they kiss. They talk about people and themselves but their own names rarely come up. He keeps on wondering about this even when he steers the conversation elsewhere and even when he finds out that his friends are having some sort of a get together with Potter's friends and he and Potter are both expected to come too.

Later, when he's having dinner with Potter, they're at a Muggle restaurant, he keeps fidgeting, enough for Potter to notice.

”What's wrong?” Potter asks.

Draco bites his lip but tries to smile at Potter. ”I was just. I was just talking to my friends and they think it weird that I still think of you as Potter instead of as Harry and that you apparently call me by my given name.”

Potter frowns. ”Yes well. It is a bit weird, I think, but I don't mind. I mean it would be nice if you'd call me Harry at least – actually no, never mind that.”

”What?”

”I was just thinking about something to do when I'll start spending nights at your place,” Potter replies with a smirk and Draco bites his lip for entirely different reason than before.

”Right. I think – I think Potter would sound less intimate. Quite a bit so.” He hums. ”I also told them that I'm leaving the country for a while and they were worried about our relationship. Our relationship! Like it's important to them.”

Potter – Harry, or whatever that bespectacled git wants to be called – smiles. ”They're good people. I think they just worry about you, don't you?”

Draco shrugs but he knows Harry is right. He knows Pansy worries about him more than enough and he knows that even though Blaise is often insufferable with his lewd imagination, he is still a good friend and he is still someone who cares for Draco. And Draco cares for his friends and he is glad that they approve of his relationship, and he is glad that they get along with Harry and his friends. Because it would be a bother if at some point they'd be – well. That's actually thinking far too ahead of him, Draco decides. It's still all new, even if they are planning a long trip together.

”I've been making arrangements. I'm going to keep my apartment for the time I'm gone and I've told my mother and she thinks it will be good, too.”

Harry nods and his expression turns more serious. ”When are you planning on leaving?” he asks and takes a sip of his wine.

Draco shrugs again. ”I'm not, I haven't thought so far ahead, yet. I thought I'd talk with you first, find out if you wanted to leave with me or join me a bit later or what.”

Harry hums and keeps his eyes on Draco's. ”I'd like to join you straight away but I think, I think maybe we could have a bit of time apart, too. Maybe you need some time to yourself to think your life through. Maybe it would be too much for our beginning.”

”I understand,” Draco says nodding but he glares at his glass. ”I think it might be good, too, if I left alone and you could still think it through if you even wanted to join me. We can owl each other, anyway.”

Harry senses Draco's discomfort, but he hasn't got an idea how to deal with it. How to help him. ”Draco,” he says and frowns. ”I want what's best for you,” he decides on continuing and Draco nods, slowly.

They don't really talk for the rest of the dinner, but they both wonder if it is, indeed, the right choice for them to spend some time apart. They part their ways after dinner and Draco feels lonely in his apartment when he gets home.

He hasn't felt lonely in a long while, he realises. Not since Harry had started talking to him but now he does and all he wants is to apparate into Harry's apartment but he thinks they're spending so much time together as is that they can easily spend one night without each other.

He starts packing, instead, because sleep avoids him, and he wonders where he'll go and what he'll need, even though he knows he should probably pack lightly. Something for most weathers, and as he is a wizard, well, he'll be able to transform his clothes for something befitting. Or buy new ones, if need be.

It's nearly two in the morning when he stops and collapses on his bed, dreaming of nothing he can remember and he wonders, when he wakes up, if the gloom that stays when he wakes up has something to do with him and Harry.

He busies himself with plans and he wonders if he wants to travel around Europe only or if he maybe might want to go to America or Asia, too. He hasn't got plans, not really, not set in stone at least. He knows he's going to go to France, at least, because that's somewhere he knows and he thinks he might also just travel around Britain. It's not like he's really travelled that much, even though they did spend some summers in France. But his father had important work to do, back then, and he and his mother enjoyed staying at the Manor.

He doesn't even know what he might need and he looks at the things he's packed the prior night and sighs, thinking maybe it's enough, all that he has now.

He decides to take a break at some point and he writes a short note to Harry.

_Look, I'm sorry if I said something wrong last night. I think I'm falling for you, though. Just thought you should know._

He sends the note with his owl and then wonders if he shouldn't have written that, yet. If he should have told Harry in person, perhaps. But it's too late, now, isn't it? It's too late to worry about something he's already done. So he doesn't. He gets a book and starts reading a – love novel? He doesn't remember buying the book and he thinks it might have been a house warming gift from Pansy. He decides it's good enough.

When he's read four chapters, there's an owl for him, with Harry's response.

_You said nothing wrong. It's surprising we haven't had any kinds of altercations before, so it was to be expected that one was coming our way. I'm falling for you, as well. I thought that much was obvious. Would I have asked you out if I hadn't been already?_

Draco smiles and puts the book down, leaving a lovelorn witch to pine after the wizard who has left to do something heroic that will ensure the world staying good but might cost him his life. He closes his eyes and lets himself think about Harry, because he's become the most important part of Draco's life.

He almost wants to ask Harry to come over but he thinks they need a day to mull it over, to figure out what it is that they want to do, now. Where they want to go from here. Even though Draco knows he wants nothing but to smother Harry with kisses. But that's besides the point, he needs a plan for his future, he needs a plan for his travels and he needs to figure out if distance would make the heart grow fonder.

But he doesn't want to do that right now, so he firecalls his mother who's happy to see him, as always, and who welcomes him with open arms. He floos over to the Manor and his mother hugs him when she sees him.

”I didn't think you'd be coming over until Saturday for brunch,” Narcissa says and Draco smiles at her.

”I had a kind of but not actually a fight with Harry,” he admits to her and she raises a brow. ”It wasn't even that we were arguing. We were actually agreeing on something about my travelling, but it felt like we were disagreeing.”

Narcissa nods and calls for a house elf to bring them tea. She ushers Draco to take a seat in the sitting room and she herself sits on a comfortable chair. ”Well, it's completely understandable for you to have some kinds of disagreements. But I'm glad to note you've stopped calling him Potter. I was wondering how long that was going to last and if it meant that you were actually just trying the relationship thing with him.”

Draco makes a face at her. ”Of course not.”

”No, I didn't really believe that, since you've seemed so much happier with him around.”

”Has everyone noticed that? Can't I even keep my feelings to myself anymore?” Draco mutters and thanks the house elf (Nippy? Or something) for the tea.

Narcissa smiles softly at him. ”I'm your mother, I'm supposed to notice these things.”

Draco makes a face but starts telling her about Blaise and Pansy's reactions, about how he has no idea where he's going to go and when, about how he doesn't know what to do with Harry. Narcissa listens to him, says she thinks he should do what feels right for him. And if that isn't useless advice, Draco doesn't know what is.


End file.
